Pride and Piracy
by Phrenzy
Summary: A story of a girl who wants to avoid marriage, a fiercely loyal young man, deception, awkward moments, pride, pain, and of course, piracy.
1. Prologue: Free Bird

Standard disclaimers apply.

_The early afternoon sun, scattered by sharp white clouds, shone down on the town of Port Royal in touchable looking beams that illuminated the world as it should illuminate angels. A cool breeze wandered up lazily from the sea, which glittered like priceless jewels before each playful wave rose and somersaulted towards the cliffs underneath the fort. The crashes against the rocks sounded like a choir of nature's children._

_It was as if God himself had looked out his window to find amusements in the day's events._

_The fort's courtyard was crowded with murmuring townspeople. Soldiers stood erect around the walls, ordinary men and women were dressed to impress as they chatted and gossiped with one another. Mothers fanned themselves as they watched over wide-eyed children, occasionally craning their necks to see if anything was happening yet. The children incessantly tugged at their mothers' skirts, their questions on what it would be like never ending. _

_The crowd parted. Stiff, tall soldiers marched forward, bayonets held over their shoulders. The drummers followed, their beat seemed to regulate the rhythm of every heartbeat. Next, escorted by more soldiers were three dirty, ragged, defeated looking men made their way to the front of the crowd, shoulders slumped, but chins held high in determination and stubborn pride. A final act of defiance. Children scrambled behind them to the front as the crowd came together again, like the walls of the red sea coming together and sealing the Egyptian army's fate. The drums ceased. A smug looking Navy man in blue dress uniform unfurled a length of paper and cleared his throat. He addressed the three prisoners._

"…_You three have been found guilty of the crimes of piracy, murder, and treason against the royal crown of England, for which the punishment is death. You have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead…Do you have any last words?"_

_The pirate farthest to the crowd's right cleared his throat and took a step forward. He was dirty and malnourished, the skin of his face was wrinkled and looked tough as leather. His tangled black hair blew softly in his face. He looked as old and weather worn as the fort did. He looked around the crowd, making eye contact with several people until they looked away, repulsed. His eyes finally locked with those of a child towards the front of the crowd. Her eyes widened in curiosity, but she maintained contact, eager to hear the criminal's last words. The pirate maintained eye contact as well; his eyes bored into her soul, but he projected his voice loud enough to address the entire crowd._

"_In death, we perpetuate the ideal of freedom that drives all men. We are only guilty of treason against those shameful men who themselves commit treason against freedom." He finally turned his head and pointed a crooked finger at the man with the paper. "You are one of those men. You wish to rule the seas, but cursed by Calypso is any man who attempts to tame her like a dumb beast. Those of us who love her and whom she has welcomed into her arms in life will also be welcomed into her arms in death."_

"_That is quite enough. Thank you for that rousing bit of rubbish." The Navy man straightened his tie and nodded at the drummers, who began their beat again. The redcoats who had been escorting the pirates stepped behind them and put the nooses around their necks. They stepped back again as the pirate who had made the speech squared his shoulders defiantly, and in that one moment before the drums stopped again and the trap door opened beneath him, he looked liked the strongest, most noble man who had ever lived._

_If God had indeed opened his window to gaze upon this day, surely he could not look upon it in favor._

_His eyes remained open as his dead body dangled from the gallows. The body rotated, as if guided by supernatural forces, until it was again facing the girl. The eyes were no longer conveying an unspoken message; they were glassed over. She could no longer bear to look at them, so she shifted her gaze to the rolled up sleeve. In the midst of the grime and black hair on the pirates arm was a scar in the shape of the letter P. All of a sudden, she felt very sad and slightly angry that this man had to die. Was he really so bad?_

_A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to face a young man, about twenty years old. Like everyone else watching the day's events, Cutler Beckett was dressed in fine attire. His short blonde hair tied back in a tight, low ponytail. He smiled sadly at her, not sharing her feelings, but feeling sorry for her. "Samantha, I saw you from the edge of the crowd. I told your mother you were too peaceful to watch this sort of thing; she should have left you at home."_

"_Mister Beckett, would that man still be sentenced to death even if he hadn't murdered anyone?" She asked immediately._

_Beckett chuckled. "You never have been one for formal greetings, have you? Well, you are only eight. I suppose you still have plenty of time to learn."_

_Samantha blushed. "Oh! I'm sorry! Erm…Good afternoon, Mister Beckett." She curtsied._

_Beckett chuckled again. "That's better. See? You've got all the makings of a proper young lady after all. In answer to your question: yes. Piracy is a despicable crime and in itself is punishable by death, whether they've killed someone or not." He stood up straight and put his hands behind his back to look more authoritative._

_Samantha continued, "But why is stealing things as bad as killing people? And what makes stealing from rich people worse than stealing from poor people?" Her bright blue eyes did not blink and her serious expression did not falter._

_Beckett was taken aback at her questions and stalled by brushing a loose hair from his face. "Um…Allow me to introduce one of the sailors under my supervision. He's staying in town tonight and I've invited him and your family to dine with me this evening." He turned around and shouted to get the attention of another young man who was watching the dangling bodies with a mournful expression. "Jack! Come here, I'd like you to meet someone." The young sailor grinned charmingly as he made his way to stand beside Beckett. Samantha Price, I'd like you to meet Jack Sparrow. He sails under my supervision for the East India Trading Company. It was Samantha's father who helped my get my job, and I am a good friend to her entire family."_

_Jack Sparrow bowed with a flourish of his hands, which made Samantha giggle as she curtsied again. He appeared to be the same age as Beckett, but with a less refined demeanor. He was about an inch shorter than Beckett. His finely chiseled face was clean shaven and his chocolate hair was short, but long enough for the wind to blow in his face. "Pleased to meet you, Lassie." He grinned. His unusual greeting made her giggle again._

_A few hours later, she was sitting on the floor of Cutler Beckett's parlor, listening to Jack's wild stories of hurricanes, cannibals, and Singapore. She and her parents laughed hysterically at his storytelling methods while Cutler insisted that every bit of the stories was true. Samantha stayed up late that night retelling the dashing sailor's stories to her dear friend and maid, Maria, whose late husband had been a sailor, so she had captured Samantha's imagination by telling her stories of the sea, and most especially, pirates. The latter of which completely fascinated the girl, much to the chagrin of her doting parents._

Seven years later

"_You have betrayed my trust! My trust and that of the entire East India Trading Company! No, the crown itself!" Cutler Beckett raged and paced about his office abort the _Pursuer_. Sitting in front of him, shackled to a chair, was none other than Jack Sparrow. Samantha stood off to the side in silence, her eyes downcast as Beckett continued. "What you have done is outstanding! Unloading an entire cargo at an unauthorized port, purely to satisfy your own interests, and without regard for your orders or the interests of the crown! That's no better than stealing, and that cargo was worth a fortune! Probably worth more than your own traitorous soul!" He spat as he shouted the last sentence, occasionally punctuating his words by pointing at the sailor._

"_It was a cargo of slaves! I would have never accepted that commission if I had known that! No human is worth any more than another, and no one deserves to be someone else's property! Every man deserves freedom!" Sparrow shouted right back._

_The back of Beckett's hand collided with Sparrow's cheek. "Shut up!"_

_Samantha gasped as the smacking sound filled the room. She had been having tea at Beckett's invitation when the sailor was brought into the office, shackled. She had chosen to stay in the room during his questioning, noticing that Beckett became enraged when his right hand man, Mercer, had explained what Sparrow had done. She had stayed in the room because she had hoped her presence would keep Beckett from becoming too violent with the poor sailor._

_Beckett had specifically chosen Sparrow, who had been promoted to Captain sometime after she had first met him, to bring a special shipment of cargo across the Atlantic. He did not tell the Captain what the cargo was, so Sparrow decided to look for himself. Upon discovering that it was a boatload of slaves, he had released them in Africa. Of course, this detour had taken him an extra two weeks, which made the East India Trading Company anxious. Beckett had invited her and her parents to come with them to search for Captain Sparrow. They found him just offshore, and the Captain had been brought aboard. His first mate was commanded to head back to port without him._

"_I can't believe you, I thought you would be the best man for the job but you are nothing more than a…a…pirate. Yes, that's what you are. And do you know what the punishment for piracy is, Jack Sparrow?" Beckett leaned over the prisoner's chair threateningly._

"_Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow." The newly labeled pirate corrected him. The reply was another backhand._

"_Hmmph. Insolent fool. The punishment, _Captain_ Sparrow, is death. Once you have been branded a pirate, you have been sentenced to death." Beckett rolled up his sleeves and turned his back to the prisoner._

"_Just because you've decided to call me a pirate doesn't mean everyone else will call me one, mate." Samantha was mentally commanding the captain to shut his mouth and avoid more punishment. Perhaps good behavior would buy him more time._

_Beckett smirked. "Yes, Captain, I am aware of this and have already made arrangements to see that the entire world knows you are a filthy…pirate. Mercer." He nodded at his overly ugly minion, who went to the fireplace and removed from it a long piece of iron with the letter P at the end. "Hmm. I do believe this would look nice right in the middle of your forehead."_

_Samantha rushed forward and stood between the pirate and the trade representative. Her arms were outstretched and she looked pleadingly into Beckett's eyes, knowing that he seemed to have a soft spot for her. "Mister Beckett…please" The representative's eyes flashed with surprise at being interrupted and then a hint of anger. Samantha gulped and dared to softly put one hand on his chest and one on his upper arm, the one that was not brandishing the iron. "Cutler…please." She watched his expression soften at the use of his name. "Please don't be cruel. He was only trying to defend the freedom that every human deserves. Captain Sparrow is a good man. He has done nothing wrong. In fact, if I may be so bold, he has done right in the face of the Trading Company's wrongs." She went in for the kill by stepping a little closer to him and giving him the saddest, most begging expression she could muster._

_He took a deep breath and shifted nervously before his face became stern again. "Miss Price, it is not your place to judge the East India Trading Company. Please step aside." He took a step away from her and nodded at Mercer, who was able to restrain her with a single arm._

_She struggled against him as Beckett's eyes filled with rage once again as he, instead of on the forehead, pressed the hot iron into the pirate's arm. "No!" Samantha shouted as Sparrow clenched his teeth before throwing his head back and screaming in agony. Beckett's grin seemed more like a snarl as the smell of burning flesh filled the room._

_He finally removed the iron from the pirate's skin to reveal a blazing red brand in the shape of a P. P for Pirate. Sparrow slumped over and held his arm to him, his breath ragged. He glared up at Beckett, who said, "You will always remember the day you betrayed the crown by crossing the East India Trading Company." He turned to Samantha as Mercer released her from his grip. "You may tend his wound if you wish. As for you, Sparrow, you will be permitted to walk the plank unshackled at sunrise. You may want to drown yourself anyway, because if I ever see you again after tomorrow, your death will be slow and more painful than anything you can imagine." He turned and left the room, followed by his right hand man._

_Samantha rushed to Beckett's cabinet and found some whiskey and a handkerchief. She crossed the room and knelt beside the pirate, who was still slumped over. She gently lifted his arm and asked, "May I?" When he nodded, she uncorked the whiskey and slowly poured some over the angry red mark. When the pirate winced and hissed, she gently shushed him and talked to him to distract him from the stinging. "Shh, it will be alright. There." She wrapped tied the handkerchief around his arm. "This should keep it clean until it scars over…What you did, it was good. You are a good man. I don't think Beckett has tasted enough freedom to realize how precious it is. Nor is he human enough to recognize the value of human life. He shall go far in the company."_

_Sparrow managed to smirk. "Aye, Lassie. Seems to me like he's no more human than a fish or a whale. Seems to have a real soft spot for you though. Of course, I have a real soft spot for you too now, Lassie. What with you savin' me life and whatnot."_

_Samantha smiled. "You deserve to be free as a sparrow, Captain Sparrow." They both laughed. "When you slumped over, after he removed the iron…you were…smiling. Why?"_

"_Because I was a pirate long before he gave me this brand here. Only while I wasn't on official business, though. Not with me same crew or ship either. Besides, if having this mark on me arm means I'm more of a man than Cutler Beckett, then I'll wear it with pride. Besides, what a pirate is, what he really is, is a free man." Samantha could almost feel the pride and nobility radiating from this pirate's very core._

_Samantha giggled, "Until you get caught, that is." She stood and offered her hand to the pirate._

_Sparrow accepted her offer and stood up. "Aye, good point."_

_Samantha escorted him back to the brig, and the next morning the shackles were removed from his wrists and he dove into the ocean like a swan. He swam a few strokes away from the ship and shouted back, "Thank you, Miss Samantha! You take care of old Becky!"_

_Samantha smiled as she looked out over the railing. She turned towards Beckett, who had walked up beside her looking offended at his new nickname. She smirked at him and teased, "What, you don't like it? I think it suits you." She laughed aloud as he rolled his eyes. "Besides, I'm proud of you for doing the right thing and setting him free. He is a good man, no matter what you think." He only sighed and stood beside her as they watched the sun rise over the island that the pirate was swimming towards._

_Samantha thought, _A pirate's spirit is more free than any other, and more conscious of right and wrong, although they often choose to do wrong. They do not attempt to justify it with 'Good Business' or any other rubbish. And their pride…

A/N: it's all italics because it takes place _before_ the main story does. Call it a flashback, a prequel, or whatever, but it's in italics. So there :P lol.


	2. Chapter 1: Ignite

Samantha squinted and put her arm over her eyes as Maria opened the curtains, flooding the bedroom with sunlight. Samantha groaned as Maria yanked the covers from her bed. "Rise and shine, dear. You've got a big day ahead of you!"

"Do I, now?" Samantha sat up and stretched, hopping out of bed as Maria withdrew a light gown from the wardrobe. It was the same shade of blue as Samantha's eyes. Removing her bedclothes, Samantha eyed the gown and said, "It must not be too big of a day if I'm not wearing a gown that weighs more than I do."

Maria handed the gown to Samantha, who stepped into it and held her hair aside for Maria to tie the back of it. The maid patted her shoulder and assured her, "Trust me on this one, love." Samantha nodded and began to braid her silky brown hair. She finished getting ready in silence. She looked out her window at the bay, the sea birds swarming around the sails of the merchant vessels docked there.

Thanking Maria for her assistance, she stepped out of her room and descended the wide, curving staircase. She glanced around the bend to see none other than Cutler Beckett, in a deep green velvet coat, clean white breeches, with his usual blonde ponytail. He was chatting quietly with her father, who had gotten Beckett his job at the EITC. They both turned and smiled at her as she came around the bend in the staircase. Stepping lightly from the bottom stair, she smiled at him and curtsied. His hazel eyes lit up with emotions Samantha didn't recognize and the corners of mouth twitched as he watched her every move.

Cutler spoke, "Good morning, Samantha. You look beautiful, as always." He sighed audibly, releasing the breath he had been holding in his lungs.

Samantha curtsied again. "Thank you, Mr. Beckett." She clasped her hands in front of her lap, the action mentally shielded her from Beckett's greedy, wandering eyes.

Beckett stepped forward, bowing deeply and grabbing one of Samantha's hands and holding it gently, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "Please, call me Cutler. I would die a happy man to hear my name come from your lips." As he said this, his other hand rose to trace her jaw line, the thumb trailing along her cheek and lips. He placed a gentle, yet formal kiss on her hand, causing her to blush and withdraw her hand towards her chest.

Her father stepped forward, putting his arm around Beckett's shoulder as if he were a son. He spoke to Samantha proudly. "Cutler has just been given the title of 'Lord' in recognition of his services to the East India Trading Company. He requests that you accompany him on a tour of the land he's also been awarded." Cutler's lips curled into a grin, proudly squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of his body. Samantha nodded and curtsied, once again, in acknowledgement of the proud man's accomplishments. Her father spoke again, "Tell her the rest of the news, won't you, Cutler?"

Cutler grinned smugly and began to speak. "Your father and I have discussed—"

Her father interrupted, "Your mother was a fine woman, Samantha. Ever since you were a young girl we have been able to see that you too would be a fine woman. And here you are today, eighteen years old, with as much elegance and poise as the queen herself, yet as intelligent, witty, and strong-hearted as the most respectable businessmen. I have been receiving letters from suitors for years. I ignored all except for one of the first ones I received. It was from Cutler, who has always been such a promising young man! Knowing what's best for you, I accepted his proposal on your behalf. Now that he has fulfilled his potential in his newly acquired Lordship, I have never been more proud. It's like having the son I've always wanted…" He clapped Beckett on the back, who momentarily lost his balance. "Now, your coach is waiting. Go enjoy yourselves." He winked at Beckett, who led Samantha out to a black coach with wooden trim, pulled by four horses. After helping her climb in, he stepped in himself and sat beside her, allowing the driver to close the door.

Samantha merely stared out the window, feeling hundreds of different things at once. She felt angry and betrayed that she had gotten no say in who she would marry. She felt trapped. She felt guilty because she would never love Beckett as a wife should. She had always shown him courtesy because he was a family friend, but she inwardly despised him. He was overly ambitious, greedy, proud, cruel…she wondered how many good men he had ruthlessly punished after branding them as pirates or traitors to the crown. She wondered how many men he had denied of their freedom, and she shuddered to think that her freedom would soon be as limited. As a single woman, she was the life of any gathering, going toe to toe with the noblest of men in debates or jokes over any issue. She was respected and loved among the lower classes because she would sit and listen to the stories of anyone, no matter how lowly. She was so respected for her business sense and her knowledge of the sea, which she learned from her father, that if she was a man she would have gotten far in the East India Trading Company. Although no one pretended that she was anything like the ideal woman—docile, quiet, and obedient—they did not claim that her presence was anything but an honor. As Cutler Beckett's wife, she would be reduced to an arm ornament, quietly living in the Lord's shadow, only using her brain when he wanted to be entertained. She would be nothing more than a prized she-dog, producing as many of the finest offspring as her master desired. She would be confined to a mansion raising children as he sailed the high seas. _This _was what her father thought was best for her? She frowned as she watched the passing scenery.

Noticing her silence, Cutler placed his hand over hers, which was resting on her thigh. "I feel just as overwhelmed as you do," he said. "As I watched you become the woman you are, I couldn't help being proud that you would someday be my wife. I've brought you with me today because I'd like you to help plan the construction of our home. After all, you and my sons will spend more time there than I will." He scooted closer to her so that there would be more contact between their sides.

She clenched her teeth when he did not acknowledge that he would have any daughters, or that the children would be hers as much as his. "How kind of you to include me. I'm sure we will build a suitable home for our children," she said.

"That's the spirit," he said. "It will have to be a large house. I'd like at least ten sons." He looked off into the distance dreamily.

"That's an awful lot of children, Cutler. Surely we'll be tired long before we have that many!" She didn't even want to imagine the toll that having ten children would have on her slender body. She was afraid that she might not live through a single birth if the baby was too large.

"I'll never grow tired of you. My past conquests have ranged from low-class pig women to Lord's daughters. They were nothing more than cheap thrills throwing themselves onto their knees before me, and I grew tired of them very quickly…but you ignite a fire in my soul that no one else has. You have a wild light in you eye that draws me like a moth. I've longed to tame you by making you mine alone. And now that day is in sight, and I find it a challenge to wait until my wedding night…" As he said this, he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, leaning close and breathing the last sentence into her ear. He lifted her chin and turned her face towards his. Her eyes widened as he leaned in and captured her lips in his.

Just as he pulled back, eyes still closed and breathing heavily, the coach stopped suddenly, nearly sending them both tumbling to the floor. They straightened themselves on the seat, Beckett resuming his position on the other end of the seat. They looked at each other in confusion, wondering why the coach had stopped. The door opened, and the young, wide-eyed, freckled-faced driver stuck his head in. He quickly glanced at each of them and said, "Lord Beckett, I regret to inform you that the wheels have been caught in mud. The horses can't get it out."

Beckett looked thoughtfully at the young man and scratched his chin. Samantha spoke up first. "We'll detach the horses from the coach and ride them back to Port Royal. When we get there, you can get someone with more horses to help you pull it out." The men looked at her, mouths open, wondering why they hadn't thought of that. She shrugged her shoulders and made her way towards the coach door. The driver was knee-deep in mud, but he held his arms out to her, offering to help her to dry land. She waved him off and pulled her dress up around her knees, revealing the olive toned skin of her slender legs. She stepped down onto the first step of the coach, then leapt across the mud puddle, landing neatly on the firm, leaf-covered ground. As she did this, the men continued to stare at her in surprise. Still holding up her dress, she bowed with a flourish of her arm as if she was a magician doing tricks for an applauding audience. When she stood up, the three of them laughed hysterically. Beckett, not wanting to be outdone, jumped from the first step as well, landing a little more heavily than Samantha had.

They stood patiently as the driver unhitched all four horses from the hopelessly bogged down coach. The driver took a knife from his boot and cut the horses' reins, making them short enough to ride with. He led the first one to Samantha. Beckett clasped his hands together, and she put her knee on his hands, allowing him to lift her onto the horse. Once she was on the horse's back, his fingers lingered on her calf as he said, "You should have worn stockings; I don't want men looking at your skin…" With that, he and the driver mounted their own horses.

They began the ride back to town, the driver lagging behind because he was also leading the fourth horse. Beckett rode up beside Samantha and said, "It's actually nice to ride through the woods like this."

Samantha nodded. "It is. The woods are lovely…not quite as lovely as the sea though."

Beckett agreed. "That's quite true." They rode in silence for a while until the edge of town was in sight. "Samantha…your father and I were discussing our wedding…it will be a month from tomorrow, at the fort."

Samantha said nothing for the rest of the ride. Her mind had been racing all day. She had no feelings for Beckett…she had a month to accept her fate.


	3. Chapter 2: Jewel

A/N: So there's gonna be a little bit of steaminess in this chapter. If you don't like Beckett, get over it, because he gets blueballs anyway…can I say blueballs in a T rated fic?

The early afternoon sun, scattered by sharp white clouds, shone down on the town of Port Royal in touchable looking beams that illuminated the world as it should illuminate angels. A cool breeze wandered up lazily from the sea, which glittered like priceless jewels before each playful wave rose and somersaulted towards the cliffs underneath the fort. The crashes against the rocks sounded like a choir of nature's children.

It was as if God himself had looked out his window to find amusements in the day's events.

The fort's courtyard was crowded with the upper crust of Port Royal society. Everyone was wearing their finest silk clothes. The women wore as many glittering jewels as they could carry. Their children stood by the wall, watching the ships entering and leaving the harbor. The back park of the courtyard was empty in the middle, with small tables and chairs around the walls. Each table was draped with fine ivory and forest green silk, embroidered in silver and gold. There was also a delicate porcelain tea set on each table. A trumpet sounded, and the children ran back to their mothers as the crowd parted. Two lines of soldiers marched up the aisle, stopping and facing the center as if they were a barrier. Two drummers walked up the aisle, parting and moving to the side when they got to the end. The soldiers along the aisle simultaneously drew their gleaming swords, reaching up and crossing them like an archway over the aisle. A bald priest, with white robes, walked up the aisle. He ascended the stairs onto the platform, then turned and waited, Bible open. Next up the aisle came Cutler Beckett, in a velvet coat and matching tricorn hat that was the deepest shade of green and embroidered with gold. His breeches were of the finest linen, and his black boots were shiny enough to reflect the face of anyone who looked at them. His mouth was curled into a smug, triumphant grin as he walked up the aisle with his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared. He stopped in front of the priest and turned to face down the aisle. Just as Beckett turned, the crowd did as well, gasping in unison at the sight they beheld.

The bride was coming up the aisle, led by her father. She was about five and a half feet tall, slender, and elegant. Her dress was of ivory silk embroidered with pearls, crystals, and gold thread. In the sun, she glittered and sparkled more than the waves crashing below. She took away the breath of everyone who beheld her, but behind her veil she was stone-faced. The only way she had been able to accept her fate was to repress any thoughts or emotions regarding her situation. She looked ahead to the man she would be enslaved to for the rest of her life…he was handsome, and he had always been kind and gentle to her. As much as she loathed his arrogance and cruelty, she pitied him. He should have fallen in love with someone who would return his feelings. Now both of their lives would be empty and meaningless without love; she would never wish that on anyone, not even him. Perhaps one day he would change, but she doubted it.

He watched her as the distance closed between them. As she arrived at the end of the aisle, her father stepped to the side as she and Beckett turned to face each other. Beckett flipped her veil behind her head so his stern hazel eyes could look into Samantha's determined blue eyes. They clasped hands as the priest began to speak.

"Marriage is what brings us together today. We have gathered to witness the holy union before God, between Lord Cutler Beckett and Miss Samantha Price. Anyone who is opposed to this glorious union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

No one spoke, much to Samantha's disappointment.

The priest cleared his throat after a moment and continued. He read a few scriptures regarding the nature of marriage, and then he turned to Beckett. "Lord Beckett, do you promise to cherish Miss Price forever? Will you provide her with safety in all times and comfort in times of sickness or sadness? Do you take her as your wife, for the rest of your life?"

Beckett never broke eye contact with Samantha. "Yes. Of course," he said.

The priest turned to Samantha. "Miss Price, will you honor Lord Beckett at all times? Will you comfort him in times of sickness or sadness? Do you take him as your Lord, for the rest of your life?"

Samantha glanced at the priest and nodded, "Yes, I do." She looked back at Beckett as the priest produced two gold rings, embellished with emeralds and sapphires, from his robe. He handed one to each of them. Each slid the ring onto the other's finger, then they clasped hands again.

The priest spoke again. "These rings, being circular, are a symbol of your never-ending union." He turned to the crowd. "Citizens of Port Royal, I now present to you the Lord and Lady Beckett. You may kiss the bride."

Beckett wrapped his arms around her, closing the distance between them and locking his lips with hers in a passionate kiss that she felt obligated to return. Their lips parted and he whispered in her ear "the sun cannot set soon enough, Lady Beckett." To her own surprise, Samantha blushed profusely, causing her new husband to chuckle as he offered an elbow to her. She took it as they walked down the aisle together towards where the tables were. The crowd filled in behind them, murmuring about how lovely the wedding had been. Everyone found a table to sit at and began serving tea. Beckett's servants brought out a variety of biscuits and pastries. A strings trio began to play as well, so everyone waltzed to their hearts content until sunset.

Chocolate eyes peered cautiously from under a bridge, evaluating each ship that was parked there. The sun was setting. There was a magnificent vessel at the closest dock. It was surely a Navy vessel, but why was no one guarding it? They are making this too easy! The pirate tiptoed through the shadows towards the _Perseverance_ and made his way up the gangway. He still wondered why no one was guarding it, but he shrugged his shoulders and considered it his lucky day. He began to hoist the sales and untie the ropes that held the ship to the dock. He paused a few times to admire the bright pink sky, set ablaze by the setting sun. The fiery, intense colors reflected in the waves as well, stirring in his heart a pride and love that only someone like him could feel. His preparations took nearly an hour, and he made his way to the wheel. He ran his hands along it, then grabbed onto a handle. As soon as he began to turn the wheel, he heard a _click_.

"Oh, bugger." He turned his head to see the shackle that had been snapped around his wrist. He turned further to face a handful of the redcoats he'd been looking for earlier. They didn't look happy. Their bayonets were aimed in his direction, their faces stern. The leader of the pack snapped the other shackle around his other wrist.

"You're under arrest, Jack Sparrow." The officer said as he began to shove the pirate back towards the gangway.

"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow…I noticed as much," the pirate mumbled. "Where have you lot been, anyway? You really ought to keep watch over such a magnificent ship. You never know when someone might try to steal her." That earned him another shove from the officer.

One of them actually answered, "We was at Lord Beckett's wedding, a lovely wedding it was, too." His less rotund partner agreed with him.

"It certainly was a lovely wedding, my favorite part was the little pastries," said the thinner soldier.

The fat one spoke up again. "The pastries? What about the bride?! She looked like an angel, she did."

Another soldier butted in, "Lord Beckett is a lucky man! I need to find me a woman like that!" The other soldiers voiced their agreement.

"A wedding?! Oh, I love weddings!" The pirate exclaimed.

The officer, who had remained silent the whole time, shoved the pirate again and shouted to the group behind him. "Stuff it! The lot of you!" The group of soldiers fell silent. The officer shouted again, pointing at a random soldier. "You! Go fetch Lord Beckett from his house this instant. Tell him there are pirates lurking about, and we've captured one." The soldier nodded and scurried off as he was told.

The fat soldier leaned over to his friend again. "I doubt he'll be happy to be interrupted on his wedding night."

Lord and Lady Beckett had left the party shortly after the sun was setting. Cutler's mansion was very close to the fort, overlooking the bay. The new mansion hadn't been competed yet. They could still hear laughter and music as they rode the coach home. Samantha looked dejectedly at her wedding ring. It sparkled and shone even in the dimmest of light. She couldn't bring herself to look at Cutler. She could feel his eyes on her. She didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid that he would no longer be gentle with her now that she was his "property." She kept her eyes fixed on her ring. _It's so beautiful._ She thought. _It's all for show…people will see this ring and think we're in love. What a lie I must now live for the sake of harmony! I should have been born a peasant. They are free from the obligations of high society. Now that's a beautiful life. Freedom._

The coach pulled up and stopped by the front porch. Samantha had butterflies in her stomach. She continued to stare at her ring. The driver opened the door. Cutler got out first, Samantha followed. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Cutler scooped her up into his arms, causing her to gasp in surprise. She ventured to look at him as he carried her into the house. His hungry expression made her tremble. She looked around to avoid looking at him. The entrance of the house was two stories high, with magnificent crystal chandeliers hanging from the elaborately tiled ceiling. The servants had lit the candles in the chandeliers, which glittered and flickered and reflected from the two story windows. The floor and staircase were covered in white marble, and a decadent carpet went up the center of the stairs. As Cutler carried her up the stairs, Samantha thought about all the times she had been invited to dinner in this house. Now she would have to make it home. She had never even visited the second floor, where his bedroom was. He carried her into the bedroom. It reflected his personality, cold and businesslike. The floor was the same white marble as the rest of the house, with only a small rug near the bed. The furniture was made of dark woods. There were no chairs, no books, and no accessories save for a bottled ship on a table near the window. The bed looked luxuriously soft, with grey linens embroidered with silver. Samantha hoped he would at least allow her the freedom to make the place more inviting.

He set her down on her feet and put a hand on her shoulder. Her heart was in her throat as he lifted her chin with his free hand. The look in her eye was something she'd never seen before. His usual emotionless, calculating expression had been replaced with something so fiery that it threatened to melt her skin right off. He looked at her for a moment before swooping down to capture her lips. The slow, yet frantic movement of his lips against hers made her dizzy. He skimmed his tongue along her lower lip, causing her mouth to open in surprise. What ensued was an intricate dance of tongues and lips as he waged a slow, meticulous war against her mouth…and her body. Samantha wasn't sure what to feel. She wanted to give in, but at the same time she wanted to scurry under the bed and hide. _I'm afraid… But my, his lips sure are soft…_She felt her body flush at that thought and she sighed. He noticed. He made a throaty sound that was like a mixture of moaning and growling, pressing himself against her and sending shivers up her spine when she felt his desire against her belly. The hand that was on her shoulder was now on the small of her back, holding her tightly against him. He removed the clip from her hair, letting it cascade down to her back like a waterfall. He kissed along her cheek until his lips were at that oh so sensitive spot just behind her ear…

"You belong to me," he breathed as he trailed kisses along her neck and jaw line. His hands began unfastening the back of her wedding gown. As each inch of her soft skin was revealed, his cold hands explored it, giving her goosebumps all over. He brought his lips to hers once again. His kiss was demanding, controlling. He finished unbuttoning her dress and pushed it from her shoulders. She shivered as it fell around her feet like a puddle of ivory silk. He stepped back from her. "Remove the rest," he commanded. She looked at the floor as she removed her shoes, stockings, and underskirts. She was completely naked, staring at the floor as he admired her for what seemed like forever. He took his coat off and threw it to the side. His shirt followed, revealing his muscular torso.

"Look at me," he said. He closed the distance between them, kissing her forcefully. Her hands remained by her sides; his hands roamed every inch of her body. He started backing her towards the bed. She stopped backing when she felt the bed behind her.

The bedroom door suddenly burst open, Cutler whipped around, reaching behind him and shielding her from sight. Her face flushed, she leaned her forehead against his bare back, touching her fingers to her lips. She was trembling, and actually was quite glad for the interruption. She peered over Cutler's shoulder.

If looks could kill, the poor soldier standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open in shock, would have been vaporized in a fiery inferno.

"Well? Don't just stand there like a stupid ape! What do you want, imbecile?" Cutler spat. He glanced back to make sure Samantha was hidden, and shifted into a more protective stance.

The soldier opened and closed his mouth a few times before any sound came out. He removed his hat and fidgeted with it in his hands. "L-Lord Beckett! Sir! My apologies, Lord Beckett—"

"GET ON WITH IT!" Samantha could see his ears turning red. He was very angry. _Understandable_, she thought.

The soldier took a step back and looked at the floor, still fiddling with his hat. "Sir, my company arrived at the harbor after your wedding…" Cutler glanced at Samantha again, who was blushing. His glare softened when he saw. "…and we found a pirate trying to steal the _Perseverance_, sir. We arrested him. I was sent to fetch you immediately."

"A bloody pirate? That's what you interrupt my wedding night for? I'm busy. Leave me."

"Sir—It's Jack Sparrow." Samantha gasped as Cutler's fists balled up and his arms tensed in rage.

_No! Captain Sparrow! Cutler will kill him! _Samantha wrapped her arms around his chest, trying to hold him. "Cutler…he's just a silly pirate; you said it yourself—"

"Close the doors and give me a moment, soldier. I will accompany you to the prison, and I will deal with this pirate personally."

The solder nodded and quickly closed the doors. Cutler turned on his heels and pounded the bed in anger, causing Samantha to jump. "Bloody…PIRATE!"

Samantha put one hand on his chest and stroked his face with the other. "Cutler, calm down."

He softened his expression and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead. "I'll make it quick, Samantha. I cannot stand to be away from you for too long…" He put his coat on and fastened it all the way to his throat, so it wouldn't be obvious that he wore nothing underneath. He picked up his wool shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head, not letting her put her arms through the sleeves. "Wear this until I return, in case some poor fool should barge in again." She nodded as she squirmed to get her arms through the sleeves. He kissed her once more before turning and walking out the doors. She could hear his and the soldier's footsteps descending the stairs, and she could hear him yelling at the soldier as the left the house.

She waited until they were out of earshot and started pacing around the room, examining every piece of furniture. She arrived at his wardrobe and couldn't help her nosiness. She opened it and inspected his clothes. Most of them were of the finest, most expensive fabrics and most flattering cuts. There were drawers occupying the lower half of the wardrobe, and she opened them. The top drawers were filled with new, clean looking garments. The bottom drawer was filled with old, worn items that he had probably not gotten around to throwing away.

She took out an old brown pair with holes in it. _He must have had these for ages…I wonder if he wore these when he was just starting as a merchant sailor._ She giggled and put the pants on, deciding to amuse herself by dressing up. She pulled and old, worn sash out of the drawer and wrapped it around her waist a couple of times. She found some trouser socks too, and she put them on and started shuffling around the room. She pretended to be Cutler, just a young sailor, taking orders from some captain and swabbing the deck of a merchant ship. Then she straightened her posture and marched around arrogantly, pretending to bark orders. She laughed at herself until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full length mirror in the corner. She sighed. With her light frame, the only thing keeping her from looking like a boy was the slight swell of her breasts through her husband's baggy shirt. She thought for a moment, then untied the sash from around her waist. She lifted her shirt up and wrapped the sash around her chest, down her torso, and then over the waist of her pants to be extra sure that they wouldn't fall down. When she finished, she put the shirt back down and looked at herself again. She frowned. Her breasts were effectively concealed, but she still recognized herself. She rummaged through the drawer and found a scarf. She lifted her hair, tying the scarf around her head to make it look like she had short hair, like a boy. She inspected her handiwork in the mirror again. _Now I really look like a boy._ She snarled at her reflection. _Ha! How ferocious! It doesn't look like me at all! I look like a mean, nasty pirate!_

"Just like a…pirate…" she whispered to herself.

Then it struck her. She quickly closed the drawer and shut the wardrobe so it would appear undisturbed. She leaned her back against it and scanned the room. She ran to his dressing table and opened its drawer. She found a couple of gold rings that she had never seen him wear before. She took them out and put them on her thumbs, which were the only fingers they would fit on. She looked around the room again, making sure it looked exactly as it had before Cutler left. She put her shoes on and ran out of the room. Halfway to the stairs, she ran straight into one of the house servants.

"Oof! Hey, get back to the stables, boy! You have no business poking around the Lord's house!" The old woman grumbled.

Wide-eyed with surprise, Samantha nodded and ran down the stairs and out the house as quickly as she could. Her heart was pounding. _I can't believe she didn't recognize me!_ She thought as she ran towards the prison. The streets were fairly empty, save for a few wandering cats or patrolling soldiers. She wasn't used to running in the dark, and she stumbled a few times, getting dirt on her hands and clothes. Brushing herself off each time, she ran nearly a mile to the prison under the fort.

The cells were mostly underground, the only light came from small barred windows towards the ceiling of each cell. Samantha crept past each window until she heard voices coming from one. She peeked into it, trying not to cast a shadow into the cell. It was lit by a lantern and torches flickering on the wall. The dirty stone walls shone with moisture and stank of mildew. She saw Cutler and his henchman, Mercer. They were facing the window. Her husband was pacing back and forth, hands behind his back, with a stern expression on his face. In the center of the cell, facing away from the window, shackled to a chair, was Captain Sparrow. His head was hung and he was breathing heavily.

Samantha had to cover her mouth to avoid gasping when Cutler suddenly backhanded the pirate. "Where's your bravery now, Sparrow? Mark my words, tomorrow you will hang. Your witty remarks will not save you from the noose, nor will any bloody sea turtles!" He straightened the collar and sleeves of his coat, pacing towards the door of the cell, motioning for Mercer to follow.

The pirate spoke. "Congratulations on your new wedding mate." He picked his head up and looked at Beckett.

Cutler turned, opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind. "And if you'll excuse me, it has yet to be consummated—"

"Oh, by all means then, Lord Beckett, go satisfy your Lady Beckett. Tell her I apologize sincerely for bringing her wonderful Lord from her side." There was sarcasm in the pirate's voice. Beckett glanced at mercer, who backhanded the pirate.

"I will tell my Samantha you send your warmest wishes. It's been three years; I doubt she will remember scum like you." Beckett said nothing more as he left the cell, hanging the key on a hook outside.

The captain merely watched them leave. "Miss Price…poor girl." He cursed to himself, wiggling in the chair trying to squirm out of the shackles. Realizing that he couldn't, he cursed again. Samantha left him and crept towards the door. She heard it open and immediately dove into the dirt, lying dead still, covering her face and pretending to be a sleeping beggar.

Mercer noticed her sleeping there. He walked over and kicked her in the ribs, causing her to cough and groan and fold herself over in pain, still covering her face. "Filthy vermin." He spat. He walked back to Cutler's side and wished him a good evening before they parted ways. She was still doubled over in pain as the rest of the soldiers walked out. She wondered why they were leaving the prison until she caught some of their conversation as the heavy prison doors slammed shut.

"I'm buying you a drink after that, mate."

"Ol' Beck looked like 'e wanted to tear ya a new one the whole time!"

"Won't say you don't deserve it though, bargin' in on 'im like that!"

"Did ye get a peek o' anything? No? What a shame."

"I'd steer clear of 'im for a while, mate."

Their voices faded off into the distance as Samantha slowly dragged herself off of the ground. She glanced around her. The entire town was black and quiet. Everyone tucked into their beds except for the men who had just left the visits and the prostitutes they might soon be visiting. She crept towards the door and, glancing around, pulled on the handle. It was stuck, and she pulled again, this time putting her entire body's weight behind it. She almost fell down the front stairs as the door flung open. She peered inside; there was no one there. She snuck in, slowly pulling the heavy door shut behind her, not letting it slam again. She tiptoed down the hall, looking down each adjoining hallway, trying to find the stairs. The place was cold and eerie, and it stank of mold and sweat. She found the stairs leading down to the cells. She tiptoed down the stairs, keeping near the wall and in the shadows as she crept past the first few empty cells. She heard movement and ducked into a corner, holding her breath and trying to be as silent as possible. She was used to sneaking around, because when she was a child she would sneak downstairs and sit just outside the parlor, listening to adults' debates after dinner parties.

The guard passed and turned down another corridor, and she began her search again. The tiny crunching sounds her feet made on the dirty floor were loud enough to wake the dead, in her mind. The prisoners in the cells she passed were mostly asleep, some noticed her, but only snarled or shrugged her off. They were all weather-beaten men whose beards and hair were so matted and dirty that it disguised any former glory they might have had. She wondered how many of these beaten souls were pirates, murderers, or military officers accused of treason.

She tiptoed down the hall until she heard someone say, "What's a lad like you doing down here, eh?" She whipped around, her blue eyes wide with terror until she noticed the voice was coming from a prisoner. She tiptoed, wide-eyed, up to the bars. He was leaning against the corner of the wall and bars, and she knelt down to stare at him. His handsome, chiseled features and tanned skin were disguised by layers of grime and facial hair. The gold teeth in his mischievous grin reflected the moonlight that was trickling into the window. His hair was a wild mass of chocolate dreadlocks and jingling ornaments, and he had a small cut on his cheek. No doubt it was from being abused by a guard or someone of the sort. Even in the darkness of the prison his eyes sparkled with mischief, wit, and alertness. It was the eyes she recognized. They were the eyes of Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Captain Sparrow…" she whispered, still entranced by the man's glinting eyes.

"It seems my reputation precedes me. How do you know me, boy?" He narrowed his eyes, not in apprehension but curiosity.

She continued to stare as she whispered, "I—I've heard stories about you, Captain Sparrow—sir. You're the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean, the sworn enemy of the East India Trading Company—you've sailed the seven seas!" Although she was speaking quietly, she tried to make her voice sound as masculine as possible.

The pirate grinned. "And you heard ol' Becky locked me up, did you? Wanted to come see the great pirate himself locked up in a cell?" His grin was sarcastic as he pulled his leather tricorn hat over his eyes.

She gulped as she spoke. "I've come to make a bargain."

He lifted his hat again so he could look at her with a raised eyebrow. "What's your name, boy? What sort of lad casts his lot with pirates?"

She took a deep breath. "My name is Sama—Sam. Samuel, sir. I've seen the keys to your prison right over there on the wall, sir. I can free you if you take me with you. Teach me how to sail and fight and—be a pirate. Captain."

"Samuel…" The pirate narrowed his eyes again, and she prayed that he didn't recognize her. "You'd risk dying a criminal's death for the chance to wave a sword, sail a boat, and say ARR all day? Or is there something else you seek?" He gazed at her knowingly, as if she were as transparent as glass.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she nodded vigorously. "Freedom, Captain." He raised his eyebrows, listening intently. "I seek freedom from life—from land—from law…from my name." _Freedom from my name,_ she thought. _Freedom from being Lady Beckett. Freedom from having to act how Lady Beckett would be expected to act…_

"Fetch the keys, then, Samuel." The pirate stood up and brushed the dirt off his backside. Then he stepped to the gate and looked at her expectantly. She made her way to the pegs on the wall and took the key. She fumbled to put the key in the lock until Captain Sparrow snatched it from her and unlocked the gate, cool as a cucumber. The gate was heavy but opened easily as he stepped through, letting go once he was out in the clear. Bad idea, for a gate that opens easily closes easily. The heavy metal gate slammed shut, causing a loud clang to reverberate through the entire prison. Samantha and Captain Sparrow nearly jumped clean from their skin, momentarily staring at each other like a pair of startled deer.

They heard footsteps coming their way as a guard appeared at the end of the corridor, merely a silhouette in the torchlight. "Hey! What do you lot think you're doing?!" He raised his gun to his shoulder.

Jack turned and pushed Samantha against the prison bars and he flattened himself against the opposite wall as the guard fired once, not hitting either of them. As he reloaded, Captain Sparrow grabbed his belt and weapons from a peg on the wall. "Stay behind me, boy!" The pirate shouted. He drew his saber and tossed the rest of his effects back to Samantha, which she caught with surprise as she ran behind him. The guard lifted his gun again. Captain Sparrow, with Samantha on his heels, faked left. As soon as the guard adjusted his aim to the left, Captain Sparrow ducked right.

Time froze. Samantha pushed off on her left foot, moving to duck right as well, but her foot slipped on the moist, sandy stone floor and she didn't get to the right as quickly as she needed to. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She saw the bullet coming towards her as she fell to the right. Turning her head, she watched the bullet speed past her head, just inches from her nose, as if it were slow motion. Her eyes widened as time caught up with her, she fell roughly against the bars of a cell, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She ignored the pain in her back and ankle as she ducked low and ran after the pirate.

The guard was still reloading when they got to him. Jack twisted his body, reaching back and shoving Samantha against the bars, yet again, to get her out of the way. He twisted his body the other way, preparing to swing his saber at the guard. Samantha flinched as she thought he was about to decapitate the guard, but instead hit the man over the head with the hilt of his saber, knocking him out.

"Loot him quickly and let's get out of here. Someone is bound to have heard us by now." The captain ordered. Samantha looked down at the unconscious guard. "Take everything you can get your hands on!" Captain sparrow shouted. Samantha nodded and immediately started searching the man's coat for his coin pouch. Unable to find it quickly enough, she just rolled him to the side and took the whole coat. She unfastened his belt which held a sheathed dagger; she took his gun and the sash around his torso that held the spare ammunition, and she took his socks too, because she liked the style of them. She draped the belt, sash, socks, and coat over her left arm, keeping the gun in her right hand. She straightened and looked at Captain Sparrow who nodded in approval of her quickness.

They ran back the way Samantha had come in, not encountering anyone along the way but the prisoners who wanted to go with them. They made it out the door, running through the shadows nonstop until they arrived at the harbor, when Captain Sparrow grabbed the back of Samantha's head and tossed her, face first, into the bank of a sand dune. She lifted her head, coughing and spitting sand out of her mouth, as the pirate flopped down beside her in the tall dune grass.

"Catch your breath, boy." The captain said calmly, not breathing hard in the slightest. "I'm evaluating the harbor's offerings." She coughed a few more times and nodded as he gazed at the floating ships. They looked like sleeping hulks, cast in the shadows of moonlight, their sails closed and their masts creaking as the ships' weight shifted in the rising tide. Captain Sparrow was silent for a moment until he pointed at a sleek, quick, medium-sized merchant vessel called the _Maître_. "That's the one. She'll outrun the company just fine with a full night's head start. Come, boy." He jumped up and crept towards the dock as Samantha stumbled to her feet and lumbered after him, her twisted ankle making itself known once the adrenaline had died down.

Cutler Beckett was furious as he stormed back towards his home. _That wretched pirate will learn his lesson when he hangs from the gallows tomorrow. How dare those imbeciles interrupt me on my wedding night? I will punish them severely…tomorrow. Tonight, I have a lovely wife to come home to—Correction. Had. I Had a lovely wife to come home to. Where has my Samantha gone?_

Indeed, he did not know. He had arrived to an empty bedroom. He smirked playfully, thinking she might be playing cat and mouse with him. _Oh, my sweet little Mouse…when the Cat finds you, he's going to pounce and gobble you up._ He went to the bedroom door and called out to her. He called out again and again as he walked through the house, searching for her, but to no avail. He eventually got frustrated.

"Samantha, where are you, silly woman?" He shouted angrily. He pounced on an unsuspecting servant, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Where is she? Where has Samantha gone? Where is my wife?"

The poor servant only shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know, sir. But I did see a young man leaving your quarters earlier this evening. I scolded him and told him to go back to the stables where he belonged, but then later I thought about it, and I don't recall ever seeing that boy here before. He was a stranger to this household. I entered your room to make sure she was alright, but all I found was her lovely wedding dress on the floor. I hung it in the wardrobe so it wouldn't wrinkle."

Beckett's heart sank as his face fell. "That boy—That boy has snuck in here and made off with my Samantha! I'm sure of it! And I had left her wearing naught but my shirt—she looked so sweet that even I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of seeing her—no. I will not think on such things. Go immediately to her father's home, look for her there and tell the others to do the same. Fetch her maid, Maria, who will stay in this house until Samantha is returned to me. Sound the alarm, my wife, my precious jewel, has been stolen." The woman nodded and rushed toward the servant's quarters.

When the woman was out of sight, he rubbed his face, trudging back up the stares he walked into his bedroom, looking around. _It looks just as it was left…or does it?_ He strode across the room to the undisturbed bed, yanking the coverings off and examining the sheets, even sniffing them. _No blood, and there is no smell of sex in the room._ He walked to the window, opening it and looking to the ground below. _No sign that she's been tossed from the window. No sign of struggle anywhere…_He thought. _Think like a criminal._ He turned towards his dressing table. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly slid the drawer open. He quietly rummaged through the various rings and valuable trinkets. Two were missing. _Interesting…he didn't take much interest in my jewelry. But then again, what man would be with such a priceless jewel waiting patiently on the bed for her husband's return. Unless—_He slammed the drawer shut. _Unless she was the goal all along. She's never been threatened until today, our wedding day, the day that the whole world is informed of how valuable she is to me. With my Samantha, they have the ultimate bargaining chip—_

The soft sound of a woman clearing her voice interrupted him from his thoughts. He looked up from his dressing table and motioned for the woman to enter the room. He looked at her expectantly. She spoke in a meek voice. "Lord Beckett, another soldier came by. He told me to inform you that the prisoner has escaped with the help of a young man. It's not certain, but it's suspected that they're heading towards the harbor. He did not stay, because he has gone to find the soldiers that were supposed to be patrolling the harbor."

Cutler frowned, taking all of this into consideration. He absent mindedly stroked the smooth wooden surface of the dressing table. "Thank you. You are dismissed." He said to the maid, waving his hand at her. He sighed as he made for the door yet again, to head to the harbor.


End file.
